


before the day is done

by saekhwa



Category: Hustle Cat
Genre: Anal Gaping, Begging, Established Relationship, Felching, Inspired by Poetry, M/M, Overstimulation, Pre-Canon, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 08:43:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11688102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/saekhwa
Summary: When Nacht says he's gonna wreck Graves, it is never an exaggeration.





	before the day is done

**Author's Note:**

> I dunno, can porn also be considered a character/relationship study? Thought I was writing felching, but here, have some surprise feelings. 
> 
> Written for [Poetry Fiction's July prompts challenge](http://poetry-fiction-challenge.tumblr.com/tagged/july-mini-prompts):
> 
> _"The hotter you get, the more refreshing._  
>  _Wonderful both night and day."_ — Hồ Xuân Hương

When Nacht grunts, his thrusts turning sporadic, Graves knows he's close. He drops his head, tightening his grasp in the sheets bunched around his fists, arms shaking so badly that he feels on the verge of collapse. He's come twice already. This is their third round, but Nacht's only come once and has never been one to hold back, though he does, occasionally, like to drag things out. For once, Graves is the one who wants to speed things along, so he drives his hips back to meet Nacht's next thrust and clenches around Nacht's cock. 

His success is met with Nacht's guttural groan, and he softly laughs with satisfaction, rolling his hips back again. It's poorly timed, though, and Nacht's next hard thrust shoves him forward too fast. He slaps a hand against the wall to brace himself and prevent a concussion only for Nacht's hands on his hips to drag him back. They both shudder, Nacht with his release and Graves with a moan that's drowned out by Nacht's. And while Graves is too wrung out for another orgasm, his cock twitches like it's willing to try. 

This is exactly how he hoped the night would end when Nacht insisted at the start of it that he intended to wreck Graves, always full of verbose promises. It makes all the prep worth it — this drained, satisfied feeling in which Graves' entire body tingles. 

He falls to the bed and doesn't even care that he's lying in the wet spot from his release, because his entire body is a tacky, fucked out mess. And yet, somehow, it doesn't seem Nacht has had enough of it as he trails kisses halfway up Graves' spine and then follows the same wayward path back down to the swell of Graves' ass. Graves can't help but squirm, softly laughing at all of this attention that amplifies the warm shiver of his post-orgasmic haze. 

He sighs when Nacht continues stroking his hole, a steady back and forth that smears the come leaking out of him. Coupled with the brush of Nacht's lips on his thighs, Graves trembles. Even though he's expecting it, or at least trying to anticipate it, a moan scrapes up his throat when Nacht thrusts his fingers back into Graves. The sound of it is obscene. He imagines that's half the appeal for Nacht. But it's the relentless tease on his prostate that makes Graves' entire body ache like a cramped muscle. 

He attempts to gain himself some measure of mercy, but it's difficult to form words when he can't get any relief. Eyes squeezed shut and fists balled around his pillow, he wriggles in a way that gets him a moment's reprieve. 

" _If_ —" He's interrupted by the sharp inhale of his own breath when Nacht's fingers slide into him. 

"You were sayin'?" The smug question is murmured against Graves' shoulder while he attempts to gather his breath again. 

He flips his hair, as if the interruption was his choice, but strands of it stick to his sweaty shoulder. He refuses to repeat the motion, instead focusing on glaring at Nacht. "If you aren't going to help clean me up, will you _please_ stop playing with my asshole?"

It's a crude but effective request. 

Nacht even nods as he says, "Sure."

But that grin of his is not one of conciliation. 

Eyes narrowed, he ignores Nacht's nudging but eventually surrenders to it and lies on his stomach, resting his head in the cradle of his arms. Nacht obviously wants to play, and he's always had a kink for fucking his own come back into Graves. So Graves sighs into it, allowing his eyes to fall shut, drifting in a post-coital doze. 

Which is thoroughly ruined seconds later as he scrambles up the bed, twisting away from Nacht's mouth of all things. Nacht flings him back onto his stomach and drags him back, and Graves can only issue a high, shocked noise when Nacht buries his face in Graves' ass again, mouth greedily sucking at Graves' hole. 

It's— It's—

Graves' thoughts stutter, his face burning — at what Nacht is doing but also the choked, broken sounds falling from his lips. He muffles them in the pillow, but they still sound loud, shaking down his spine. And Nacht is—

Proving himself to be a singular, astonishing, _overwhelming_ experience. Wild and reckless and—

Making Graves moan and shudder, helpless to the sweep of Nacht's tongue when Nacht licks him again and again, his hands firm around Graves' ass, keeping him spread for it. Nothing else should shock Graves, but the push of Nacht's tongue makes him choke out another moan as he jerks up toward the head of the bed. He's not trying to escape. There's just _too much_. Too much sensation, too much Nacht, all electric in its intensity. 

He moans again when Nacht's fingers slide into him, and since Nacht is so insistent, Graves decides he may as well get a better angle. He arches. He doesn't expect Nacht's damp mouth at the base of his spine or the slick glide of it as he prowls up to nibble Graves' earlobe. 

"Yeah," Nacht murmurs, his voice like gravel, as wrecked as Graves feels. "Look at ya." 

The very phrase makes Graves squeeze his eyes shut, which only makes Nacht chuckle as he nips Graves' shoulder. 

"Like my mouth on ya? Gotta say." His teeth are on Graves' earlobe again, making the back of Graves' neck prickle. "Ya taste real good, Graves. You should let me hear more." 

Despite the crook of Nacht's fingers encouraging just that, Graves bites his bottom lip and keeps his moan bottled in his throat. 

"I wanna know how bad you want me," Nacht says. 

And Graves can't deny him any longer. Not when Nacht has always been so good at undoing all of his hard-won control. Graves shudders, his moan more a whimper as his muscles spasm. He breathes out another inarticulate sound and then another and another, Nacht dragging it from him with every twist and thrust of his fingers and the tease of his teeth on Graves' shoulder and back. 

"Yeah, just like that."

Graves flushes but can't stop moaning as Nacht's fingers press on his prostate again. His muscles seize, breath rushing out in a low, broken whine. 

"Not s'hard, is it? Just givin' in. Wish you could see yourself right now. All dolled up for me." 

Nacht presses on his prostate _again_ , and Graves keens, planting his face in the pillow to smother it, but it's too late. Nacht's low chuckle is one of victory. Graves may die from this. 

It resolves him to… But it's difficult to _think_ when— His body betrays him with another moan. He writhes on the thick fullness of Nacht's fingers.

He pulls his face away from the pillow and gasps, "Na—acht." 

He tries to lift himself, but his arms tremble too badly to support his weight. His eyes sting now, and if Nacht makes him cry, he will never hear the end of it. 

"I—" The sparks of pleasure from the crook of Nacht's fingers nearly shatters his resolve. He claws at the sheets, this time to escape Nacht's demands on his exhausted body. "I _can't_."

"You can," Nacht murmurs, with the utter faith and confidence that he seems to approach everything in life. As if there are no such things as alternatives or anything as mundane as compromise. His lips are on Graves' ass again, dotting kisses down the cleft. "A lil more. You can do that, can't ya? Let me have a little more of ya."

Graves sucks in one deep breath only for it to rush out when Nacht's fingers push at his hole, teasing the rim. 

"Na—Ple—" The syllables are a mess of sound, shattered by Graves' faltering breaths. 

"Just want another taste."

Graves' answering moan catches in his throat, the sound of it strangled as Nacht stretches him open. He tries to clench against the warm puff of Nacht's breath, but Nacht's fingers resist the pull of his body. He's exposed, and he buries his face in his pillow as if that might offer something. Like the possibility that some day, he might be able to predict anything Nacht might do. 

In this stark moment, Graves only knows the shock and sensation of Nacht's tongue swirling around his gaping hole. His thoughts fray further from the pressure of Nacht's fingers, keeping him wide open. He's too bare, too desperate, and he gasps with relief when Nacht's mouth is on him again, tongue fucking into him in slow, teasing thrusts. But it's Nacht's mouth, sucking at his hole again, that makes him moan. It's the wet, filthy sound of Nacht swallowing his own come that makes Graves' face heat again, even as he gently rocks back for more. 

Graves swallows, too, around his own moan, gulping air as his thoughts nearly make him choke, imagining what he can't see — Nacht lapping at his hole, thorough as he sucks out every drop of come. 

Pleasure erupts from the base of Graves' spine and rushes toward his head. It feels like an orgasm in the way that it leaves his skin prickling and ears ringing and his head swimming in a haze, where there's nothing but the sensation of floating. 

He blinks, wondering if he is, until he realizes that Nacht's flipped him onto his back. Of course Nacht is grinning, entirely self-satisfied and smug, his mouth and chin slick as he admires the mess he's made of Graves. 

Everything is still too much, and Graves has to shut his eyes. It's difficult to settle when his heart still feels as if it might explode, when each breath is still too fast and too heavy and when he wonders what else Nacht has planned. That spurs him to open his eyes, and he watches Nacht prowl over him. 

In that split second, he fears the worst: that Nacht might kiss him. That he craves that kiss. He plants a hand in the center of Nacht's chest. 

"Don't you dare," he warns, the full weight of the threat lost when his voice rasps. 

Nacht laughs and kisses Graves' shoulder, as if that's what he intended to do all along, but Graves isn't fooled for a second. 

"Didn't get ya loose enough?" And Nacht actually has the audacity to chuckle at his own _terrible_ joke. 

Graves tries to shove him off the bed but manages nothing more than tapping Nacht's shoulder before his arm falls back to the mattress. "Will you please get me a towel, you—you—" He struggles for something appropriately scathing, but when nothing comes to mind quickly enough, he wonders if he can hold a pillow with enough strength to hit Nacht with it. 

Nacht laughs even harder, and Graves knows he's well and truly failed. "Whatever ya got in mind, you know I'm yours," he murmurs, kissing Graves' jaw. 

The promise of it, the warmth of Nacht's breath, makes Graves shiver. Then he's moaning again, arching when Nacht's fingers are at Graves' hole again, utterly insatiable. 

"I'm _all_ "—Nacht's words are punctuated with another lazy thrust—"yours."

" _Towel_ ," Graves gasps, trembling. 

He does not find Nacht's answering laugh endearing. Unfortunately, his attempt to hit Nacht with the pillow is useless, his grip too weak. The pillow slips from his grasp as jolt after jolt of pleasure and pain courses through him from Nacht ruthlessly pressing on his prostate. 

" _Nacht_." He hopes that desperate plea will satisfy Nacht. 

It does, Nacht brushing a kiss to Graves' chest, tongue flicking Graves' nipple ring. "Okay, okay. I'll get ya the towel."

Graves', "Thank you," is a heartfelt exhale.

He lies on the bed, a useless pile of limbs, and is tempted to demand that Nacht run him a bath. He's going to be sore. 

But when he hears the sound of Nacht brushing his teeth, he rolls onto his side, finding himself smiling at the sight of Nacht in the bathroom. There's a light feeling in Graves' chest as he watches Nacht finish up and bring a damp towel. 

He stretches his arms above his head and spreads his legs, sighing with pleasure as Nacht wipes him clean, touch gentle, kisses even gentler. 

Perhaps that's why an impulsive urge overtakes him. He wraps his arms around Nacht, hooking a leg around Nacht's thigh to better secure him for a real kiss, one that's sweet and slow and a perfect finale to their night. 

"Ain't had enough of me yet?" Nacht teases. 

There's something in his smile that makes Graves ache. He skims his fingertips over Nacht's scalp, walking them down to Nacht's shoulder as he shares his own smile, one full of just as many promises as the ones Nacht had given him earlier. 

"Of you?" he murmurs, brushing Nacht's lips with another tender kiss. "Never."


End file.
